


Homesick heart

by Bill_Longbow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, At least the second after credit scene, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Dancing, Everyone needs hugs okay, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Not Black Panther (2018) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Panic Attacks, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Swearing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, barf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: He had no doubt in his mind that the pardons that were in the works for the others weren’t for him. The best he could hope for was either a trial and a bullet to the head, or staying here in Wakanda for the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure which he would choose if it were up to him.Imagine his surprise when T’Challa had called him to his office and Tony Stark had stood there instead.The billionaire had walked up to him, put a hand on his shoulder and said “I forgive you.”Or where Tony comes to Wakanda to help James with the mess in his head. But how do you help another when you're a mess yourself?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nix3994](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nix3994/gifts).



> For Nix, who gave me this prompt in the Valentine's exchange: The rogues coming back and Tony and Bucky becoming friends and then slowly falling in love.
> 
> Massive thanks to [Skye](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_wyr/pseuds/Skye_wyr), who is the best beta to ever beta!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, comments are always welcome!

"You're using what?!"  
  
" _Barf_ , Stevie, we're using _barf_ to piece my mind back together again."   
  
He threw the ball at the wall with his brand new arm, and snuck a peek at Steve's disgusted expression.   
  
It was probably wrong of him, but he had immense fun teasing Steve like this. God knew the little punk had tested his patience for nearly two decades, not to mention the shit he put them all through with his "stand like a tree' crap last year. James was pretty sure Peggy Carter was finding a way to come back from the dead in order to box Steve's ears for putting her _godson_ through so much pain. (And hadn't that been a delightful surprise, coupled with the fact that Tony hadn't been able to come to her funeral because he was busy lobbying his ass off.)   
  
He couldn't deny that after a week of sad faced Steve and his bitching band of misfits it was a relief to go back into the ice. Unfortunately Shuri was as good as she proclaimed she was, and after only three months he was defrosted again and inserted with an implant. Shuri and her team of scientists deemed it impossible for the trigger words to be removed without causing either severe neurological or emotional trauma. They had developed microscopic devices instead, and put them in both his temporal lobes. Whenever someone started the programming sequence they would create temporary cerebral deafness, so the Winter Soldier couldn't be called to the surface. In a very tense trial they had him read the words to himself, but the implants worked like a charm and he was declared safe enough to stay unfrozen.   
  
While he had been under, Wanda had given herself up to receive intensive training of her powers and temper at a boarding school for enhanced individuals. Somehow Stark and T’Challa had convinced the Accords council to pardon her in full if she would cooperate, and the mood in their part of the palace had improved remarkably since before he was frozen. T’Challa had later explained that Wanda had subconsciously transferred her hurt and her hatred of Stark onto the others. James didn’t know if he bought into the subconscious part, but he was glad that she was gone, because now he saw glimpses of Stevie again, where before there had only been the Captain. The others seemed nicer too (except for Wilson, he hated that guy), even Barton had stopped sulking in the top of a tree and could often be found playing videogames with Lang.

In the meantime Stark was working miracles with the Accords, achieving revision after revision. Unraveling the leash some (Ross) had wanted to put on enhanced beings, and reforging it into a set of legislation that could actually work. It distributed accountability over several parties, without losing decisive power in extreme situations.

Natasha had been the first, and then one by one, the renegades had made contact with Tony via phone or videofeed. They kept their conversations private, but James noticed Steve’s steps to be lighter, even if he came red eyed out of the call.

James hadn’t called Stark of course, what was there to say? Everything would be woefully inadequate. Besides, he had no doubt in his mind that the pardons that were in the works for the others weren’t for him. The best he could hope for was either a trial and a bullet to the head, or staying here in Wakanda for the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure which he would choose if it were up to him.

 

Imagine his surprise when T’Challa had called him to his office and Tony Stark had stood there instead.

The billionaire had walked up to him, put a hand on his shoulder and said “I forgive you.”

James had barely managed to stay upright and might have mumbled something eloquent like “Wha?”

Stark had squeezed his shoulder before busying himself with unlocking a large suitcase.

“Full disclosure; I read all the files they kept on you and watched all the footage, and.… Jesus fuck, Barnes, you're one stubborn bastard, aren't you?” Stark had removed a large, oblong shape from his case. “So after losing breakfast and lunch, I bleached my eyeballs and decided that the best revenge on those bastards is to rehabilitate you.” He had pulled the cloth off the shape to reveal a new mechanical arm and looked up at James expectantly. “Consider this my olive branch. A titanium-alloy, vibranium coated, state of the art branch, of course. I’m not following that silly trend where they put wood on electronic devices. Why would you want to cover up a beauty like this?”

James’ brain still refused to cooperate, so Stark had pushed him into a chair, asked permission to install the arm and did just that. Stark talked while he worked, and had explained his plan for James. His lawyers were on the verge of successfully preventing a trial, but there would have to be certain requirements to ascertain James was safe to be in society again. Stark had been in contact with Shuri and he was pretty sure he could help James with this tech he had been tinkering with.

  
  


When James had walked into their common room with his shiny new arm Steve had only smiled happy, so apparently him and Stark were still in contact, but BARF was new to him.

“Why would… I don’t…” Steve’s face went through several comical phases of confusion before he gave up and adopted a sly smile. “All these new fangled techniques go straight over my head, Buck.”

James rolled his eyes and threw the ball at Steve’s face, who caught it of course, and threw it back with more force than strictly comfortable. “My memory might be spotty, but you can’t fool me into believing that ‘aw shucks’ routine ever worked on me, punk.”

Steve grinned unabashed. “It might’ve…” He turned back to his sketchbook and James played with the ball in his hand. The new arm was much more sensitive to touch, he relished in the feel of the texture and how the ball deformed when he squeezed.

“So Tony is coming here then?” Steve asked without looking up, and James thought he sounded a little hopeful. Natasha, Wilson and Lang had already been pardoned, each with their own specific set of requirements, and the palace was beginning to feel a bit empty.

“Yeah, Colonel Rhodes was going to take his place in Brussels next week, ordering Stark to ‘do something fun’.” James copied the quotation marks Stark had used. “Said he wanted to try the local cuisine.”

James was pretty sure Stark really wanted to get a closer look at some of the Wakandan tech, but that was fine by him. Stark had explained what the procedure roughly entailed and James was reasonably sure there would be no ‘fun’ in his foreseeable future. If Stark could be distracted with shiny inventions to leave him in peace it would be fine by him.

James had been glad Stark had to fly back right after installing the arm. His head was already reeling with the unexpected turn of events, he wouldn't much want to be subjected to the BARF procedure right away.

“You knew Stark was coming today, didn't you?” James threw the ball as high as it could go and caught it.

“Didn't want you to fret beforehand,” Steve conceded without looking up, using his finger to smudge the charcoal a bit.

The image of a tiny version of his best friend doing exactly that, was suddenly so strong it felt like a kick to James' head. He would never get used to these images and sounds that would suddenly claw their way to his consciousness, at least it was a good memory this time…

He was mulling over his conversation with Stark when something clicked.

“Stevie?”

“Hmm?”

“You're already pardoned, aren't you?”

The reddening of Steve's ears gave him away, even if he managed to keep his face relaxed.

“Why didn't you tell me?!”

When James threw the ball this time it bounced off the top of Steve's head who tried, and failed, to hide behind his sketchbook. “Thought you'd be angry,” he mumbled”

“Course I'm angry, you got a team to lead, captain.” James couldn't believe Steve apparently hadn't learned anything from last year's debacle.

“M’not teamlead an’more.”

“You're what now? Stop mumbling, Stevie, what's going on.”

Steve put his sketchbook on the table and scratched his cheek, absentmindedly smearing it with charcoal. James had the overwhelming urge to hug him, but kept his seat.

“Part of the deal was that I'd lay down my leadership, until I've proven, and I quote ‘that I can follow orders and put the interests of my team before those of myself,’ which only seems fair.” James snorted. He hoped they wouldn't hold their breath while waiting for Steve Rogers to follow orders.

Steve's eyes took on a devious glint. “I agreed with this, but only if I could be part of your security team.”

“My what?”

“In case you snap,” Steve grinned. “Until you're no hazard to society anymore someone hasta keep you in line.”

James narrowed his eyes at Steve as understanding dawned. “You're being payed to laze around aren't you?”

Steve, the obnoxious bastard, actually finger gunned him. “Got it in one!”

“You're job is to lie in the sun, swim a few laps and then eat delicious food…”

“Someone's gotta do it…”

“Maybe take a nap before sketching the entire afternoon.”

“You're not easy to be around with, job's gotta have a few perks.”

James grinned. He really wished more people knew Steve like he was now, relaxed and with eyes full of laughter.

“I ain't getting paid though, but I did want to be close to you whenever you go through whatever it is Tony's throwing at ya.” Steve's sincerity warmed James from the inside out.

“I signed,” came from the hallway, followed by Clint who came jogging in. “I signed and I'll be going home tomorrow.”

Clint’s relief was nearly palpable, a huge grin split his face while he awkwardly rubbed his neck. Clint had been the most stubborn in his protest against the accords, and when Wanda had signed, he had taken it as a personal blow at first. James was certain that Natasha had set him straight at one point, and after his call with Stark he had read the document for the first time and sent it to the commission with so many notes in the margin it was nearly illegible.  

“So if you guys want a shot at finally beating me at Tekken, now is your last chance.”

James waved him away but Steve jumped up with a nasty grin. “Bring it on, Hawkeye.”

 

 

 

It took Stark nearly two weeks to clear his schedule enough so he could stay for a few days. Two weeks that had made James increasingly antsy. He had found the BARF presentation at MIT from last year, and was more and more convinced that he'd rather live with the nightmares than actually go through the torture and murders again. Watching the footage had made way to a whole new set of nightmares, seeing the Tony who would be orphaned soon. Every night James was visited by a young boy with huge doe eyes, staring at him accusingly.

When Stark finally came walking into the common room, with one of the armours behind him carrying a large trunk, James was kinda hoping the ground would open up and swallow him. Steve sensed his mood and squeezed his shoulder, before walking over awkwardly to Tony and holding out his hand.

James thought he saw Stark give the barest flinch, who covered it up with an eye roll and a lopsided grin and pulled Steve into a hug.

“Let's just start fresh, yeah?” James heard him murmur in Steve's ear who gave a terse nod and released Tony with a pat on the back.

“Sure thing, Tony.”

Steve beamed at the both of them and James thought this was the happiest he’d seen his friend since… since 1944 probably.

James managed an awkward little wave at Stark, who smirked back at him. He was still unsure why Stark chose to help him, after everything. Sure, _Hydra_ had made him into a murder puppet, but it were still his hands that had smashed Howard's face in, it were still his hands that were squeezing the life out of Maria Stark. It was at him those dead eyes stared accusingly. Oh God, what had he done? He stared at his hands in horror, they were covered in blood. How did this... He tried to wipe it off on his legs, the smell of death clinging in his nostrils. He gagged and put an arm before his nose against the stench. He needed to run, he needed to get away… Were those sirens in the background? He needed to get to the rendezvous point. No! No! He refused to go back, not to that, not ever again. He had to hide, or they would find him and put him in the chair... He crawled into the smallest space he could find, hugging his knees to his chest and fighting against the sobs that tried to escape. He had killed them… So many… He rocked to and fro, his face pushed hard against his knees. He wouldn't go back, he wouldn't, he wouldn't…

 

“… the existence of virtual particles…”

 

He tasted blood on his tongue where he was biting his lip.

 

“... now we're trying to use this quantum foam in…”

 

There was someone near him. He smelled their cologne, as well as the scent of some tropical flower.

 

“... but I think, no, I _know_ I can disprove it, if only Richards would give me…”

 

He opened his eyes and was temporarily confused by the bright light.

 

“... oh, hey, you're back?”

 

Stark sat next to him against the other wall, a careful two feet away from where he had crawled between the wall and a side table. Stark looked at him in concern, not fear, which wasn't… which shouldn't…

“I'm not safe,” James managed to croak, looking away to hide his face in his hands. He shook all over and felt his cheeks were wet with tears.

“That's why I'm here, remember?” Stark chided him gingerly.

Footsteps came closer and Stark moved to make room for Steve, who held out a glass of water. James took it and nearly poured the water over himself because his hands were shaking so hard.

“Been a while since you had such a bad one.” Steve sat down next to Stark and studied James when he didn't answer.

“Right?”

He knew he gave himself away by looking the other way, but he couldn't stand the look of hurt and concern that was no doubt playing over Steve's face.

“Oh Buck,” Steve sighed. He lightly put his hand on James' foot, but didn't comment, for which James was grateful. Slowly the jitters died down and he was left feeling weak and numb. All the while Stark and Stevie were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. James hated that he had disappointed Steve again. His friend had been so happy when it had seemed that James' nightmares and panic attacks were getting less. Though it was true he was not as often triggered into a dissociative episode, the panic attacks now usually followed his nightmares, and he had somehow managed to brave those alone, even when they increased the more he thought about the BARF procedure.

“I'll go set up then, see you guys for dinner?” Stark was acting unconcerned, but to the trained eye it was obvious he held himself differently, more alert. When James looked up he saw that the armour had put down the trunk and stood much closer than before. It was a bit of a relief.

“We usually eat in the east wing dining hall.” Steve didn't stand up or let go of James' ankle as he spoke, radiating a quiet calm. “Around seven?”

With a nod and a jaunty salute Stark went on his way, the armour trailing behind him.

James shook his head when Steve looked at him in question, he did _not_ want to talk about it. With a squeeze on his leg Steve let him know he understood and got back to his chair and his drawing. James allowed himself another few minutes before getting up and retiring to his rooms to soak under a scalding shower.

 

 

James was pushing the food around on his plate. Breakfast at the palace usually meant going back and forth between his seat and the buffet multiple times, but today he had barely managed some pieces of mango. His throat was clenched shut in nerves, and a vague feeling of nausea had made its home in his stomach. Steve tried to lighten the mood with some small talk, something about bananas, but James could tell he was nearly as nervous.

Dinner yesterday had been a stilted affair. Stark and Steve had tried to exchange some jokes, but whatever camaraderie they had rebuilt during their video talks wasn't enough to have _him_ there, as a physical reminder of the negligence (betrayal) that had been the last nail to the coffin of their friendship. If one could even call it that. In addition, James couldn't begin to imagine how it must be to share a meal with your parents’ murderer. He knew how awkward _he_ felt; he barely dared to look up from his plate, shovelling the food into his mouth at high speed and excusing himself as soon as his plate was empty. Steve had given him a Look, but he ignored him in favour of getting to his room as quick as possible.

He had spent the night rolled up in a blanket on the balcony, not daring to go to sleep, too afraid to lose his mind again.

Stark never showed up at breakfast, and after Steve had eaten enough there was nothing to do but go to the labs.

  
  


Behind the glass wall Stark was a flurry of movement between different keyboards, his fingers a blur on one before rolling on his wheely chair over to another and back again. Seeing him made James' stomach swoop and clench, and only decades of being punished for showing any sign he was more than a killer robot made that he didn't wipe his clammy hands on his legs.

“I'm with you, pal.” Steve's quiet reassurance did little to put him at ease, nor did the warm hand on his shoulder. It felt oppressive, like he was trapped. Somehow this felt worse than Hydra. He didn't know what hurt more: That he had to do this to himself, that he had to go in there, _see himself being tortured_ , and heal from that? Or showing Steve and Stark how he hadn't been strong enough, how he had broken and was unmade. Or maybe how they were pretending he had a choice. He didn't and they all knew it, it was this or spend the rest of his life here in Wakanda if he was lucky.

But like hell would he let Hydra have a hold over him any longer. He squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw before he stepped out of Steve's hold and pushed into the room.

Stark didn't acknowledge them until Steve waved a large mug of coffee in front of his face, even then not looking up from what he was doing, reaching out with one hand to take the mug.  

“Thanks Cap, if I had known T'Challa was secretly cultivating the best beans in the world I would've stopped by sooner,” he sighed into his mug. James noticed the corner of Steve's mouth curling up a bit while they waited for Stark to start with the day's program.

After a few sips in silence he opened his eyes and studied them over the rim of his mug.

“So,” he drew the syllable out, his eyes darting between James and Steve, the mug in a fierce grip on his lap.

“I've asked T'Challa if Shuri could replace me, since my stay here seems to do the exact opposite to you than our intended goal. I don't trust my tech to anyone else here, or anywhere really, Stark tech in the wrong hands and all that, less than stellar experiences there, with the terrorists and homicidal father figures, and don't forget about the Stark powered death machines where you guys beat each other to a pulp.” He tipped his coffee mug in a salute.

“So yeah, no sharing. But. Shuri is working on other stuff and can't make the time needed to properly assist, so that's a no. Now, I won't force myself on you, huge fan of consent, _especially_ since you haven't had a lot of that for the past decades, but if you want to do this now you're stuck with me. If you're okay with waiting a couple of weeks I'll give my honeybear a crash course and then it's a matter of when he's able to free himself.”

Stark looked at him expectantly, but James had trouble deciphering the message hidden in the barrage of words. Steve turned to him as well, and seeing his doubt took over the lead.

“Could you explain to us exactly what's going to happen?” Steve waved at all the equipment around them.

“Didn't anyone..? You have no idea have you?” He sighed when Steve firmly shook his head.

“I need to have a word with King Meow, FRIDAY put it on my TDL,” Stark muttered as he put down his mug on a table behind him. He waved for them to go sit on the couch in the corner, picking up something and rolling his chair over by pushing his legs away from the table. James sat stiffly, dreading knowing what was to happen as much as not knowing. Considering his luck, the procedure would be worse than what he had made up himself after Stark’s brief explanation last time coupled with the MIT presentation.

“I was working under the assumption that someone had explained our proposed treatment to you, but I see his Felineness has been too busy or whatever, matters of state take precedence. I'm glad I only run a billion dollar company instead of a small country.” The smirk Stark sent them was obviously one honed during decades spent glad handing politicians and businessmen, at least to James, it didn't contain a shred of authentic humour.

“Let's start at the beginning, shall we? What do you know of BARF?”

“We saw the MIT presentation from last year,” Steve supplied. A myriad of expressions flitted over Stark’s face, too fast to make out, before he plastered his showman smile back on.

“Excellent, so you know the basic dynamics. I've made a few, well, to be fair, I've made a lot of improvements on the prototype since then. For example, we don't need physical props anymore. This,” he held up the box he was fiddling with on his lap, “is the improved interface, and will make a 3d rendering of the memory. I won't bore you with the mechanics of it, maybe later if you want, suffice it to say that by not only revisiting your memory, which is standard in most treatment, but actively walking around in it or even _changing aspects_ of it, should be able to put it to rest as they say. No more flashbacks, less nightmares.” Stark looked wistfully, his attention on the box which he turned over and over in his hands. James wondered how many times Stark had used the device, how many memories he had wanted to erase. As if he read his mind Stark continued.

“This isn't a wonder cure, it won't erase the horrible things that've happened from your memory, but it _will_ make it easier to live with them. Now, I'm not gonna touch your traumas with a ten foot pole without professional supervision. A number of therapists stand ready for when you return to tackle that hurdle, all vetted by various people I trust. You're always free to choose someone else of course.”

“But what _are_ you gonna do then,” Steve interrupted him, sounding as bewildered as James felt. What the hell were they doing here if not that?

Stark was unperturbed, his smile even seemed a bit more genuine.

“Two things. First, we can use it to help memories of _James Barnes_ to the surface, in other words: pre war experiences, people, places, foods, you name it. Second, though I have a lot of faith in the scientists here, and I like their straightforward solution to the trigger words, (James shuddered at only their mention) it would be better to reframe the individual words, give them a different, more neutral context.”

Stark looked like he wanted to add something, but refrained. He finally stopped fiddling with the box and leant forward with his elbows on his legs.

“I understand if you need some time to process. Again, I thought you had been informed beforehand.”

“Why do you have to do the words? We've tested it and the implants work fine! And Shuri said they can't be hacked.” Steve was working himself up to an argument and James noticed how much it affected Stark, who’s energy seemed to have drained instantly. He rubbed his face with one hand and looked at James with sadness etched in every line of his face.

“Look, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, _again_ ,” he shot a pointed look at Steve before continuing, “but have they tested the devices against an EMP? Nothing is foolproof, _everything_ is breakable, and believe me, people will try just because they can.” Beside him James felt Steve deflate, while he held himself stiffly upright. Of course. Things didn't come easy for him, he should've learned that lesson a long time ago.

“I'll do it,” James spit the words out before he could hesitate. “The words, I'll do the words.”

Stark nodded. “I have to warn you that this,” he waved the box, “isn't going to erase the sequence. We'll have to tackle the circumstances under which the words were forced on you. Not gonna do that now. We'll start with the recontexting. Before you start, that's totally a word. Now, our brains work much the same way like computers, under the surface. Everything we interact with starts a subconscious subroutine. Let's take an apple. At the mention of the word your brain ran the subroutine ‘apple’, which consists of opening and closing all data concerning apples. How they look, taste, and smell, how they grow, what you make with them, different species of apples, significant experiences with apples, how the word is spelled, and even different things related to apples, like pears and Steve.”

Tony's grin fell when they didn't react and he wiped a hand over his face again before continuing.

“It's a lot, but I want to give you the right information, seeing as they neglected to do so from the beginning. So, for all humans, words unlock subroutines. What Hydra did to you is rewrite those into one overarching program called ‘comply’. If we manage to strongly insert new subroutines for the separate trigger words it is my bet that if they start the sequence your brain will momentarily don't know what program to run. So this won't erase the triggering program, but it will give you time to act. A few seconds extra could be all it takes to silence the one saying the words.”

James managed a small nod. It sounded reasonable, but what would he know? All he wanted was to be rid of Hydra. “When do we start?”

“Whenever you want, but shouldn't you at least think about it before jumping into it, now that you know?” Stark narrowed his eyes. “Don't tell me that running headlong into danger is a Brooklyn trait?” He smiled (the first genuine one James had seen on him) when James and Steve shrugged in synch.

“Dear me, well, let's get started then, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

He was going to have a really serious talk with the kitten monarch. Tony was fuming about the lack of info they had given James. The kid had been used as a puppet for decades and then they implant stuff  _ in his brain _ without the full details? Unforgivable. FRIDAY had promptly made an official appointment with the king later that day. T'Challa, or whoever was in charge of James’ rehabilitation had some explaining to do. He was sorely tempted to hack the implants just to show it could be done, magic space metal or not. 

Tony had enough self knowledge to realise he was using his anger to keep his mind away from other nasty places. The mention of the MIT presentation had been like a punch to the gut. He had made his peace with James' part in his parents’ death a while ago, but Steve’s negligence to tell him still stung, no,  _ hurt _ . It hurt and no amount of BARF sessions was going to lessen that. 

Dinner yesterday had been horrible. James obviously didn't want him there, and the small talk Steve offered felt worse than silence. Tony hated how uncomfortable and fake their interactions felt now, hated how a sudden move from Steve could make him flinch, hated that he could never again trust this man, hated how fucking  _ cheerful _ Steve had been when Tony had arrived yesterday, like he actually gave a damn about their supposed friendship.

Tony had rolled back to one of the screens and pretended he was typing something to calm himself down again. The best thing to do was get the soldiers used to the BARF system and get the hell out of here. He had the best therapists on call to help with the traumas, no need for any further interactions between the three of them. Doing one of the calming exercises he had learnt helped getting his frantic heartbeat under control, and within a minute he felt like he could continue. Behind him Steve and James were murmuring, too quiet to make out without enhanced ears.

He clapped his hands loudly and resisted the smirk when both of them startled a bit (yes, it was petty, no, he didn’t give a fuck). “Let’s get started then, shall we?” He picked up two additional BARF interfaces and gave the boxes to the other men. “You can stay where you are, if you’re comfortable? Oh, one question, are you okay with me putting FRIDAY online? She’s always with me, of course,” he patted the earpiece, “and Aristocat already gave his permission. I want her to monitor our vitals, just in case.” He didn’t mention he would feel safer if his AI was more present.

Steve quickly assented, and gave a brief explanation to James, whose gaze went from vacant to almost curious, the most animated Tony had seen him here in Wakanda. 

With a single  _ enter _ he activated FRIDAY in the lab. “Welcome to Wakanda, baby girl, stretch your legs for a bit, hope you didn’t get too cramped while traveling?” 

“Thank you, boss, I’m quite comfortable. Good morning Mister Rogers, Sergeant Barnes.”

Tony managed to keep a straight face during this slight in Steve’s direction. He had  _ awesome _ kids.

“Hi FRIDAY, nice to hear you again,” Steve tried, but was met with stony silence from the AI. 

She had only been a baby AI when they fought in Siberia, and watching her creator get beaten and  _ left behind _ had made a great impact on her. Since then she was fiercely protective of Tony, and had tried to dissuade him from going to Wakanda. When he had explained his reasoning she agreed reluctantly to cooperate with Steve, but flat out refused to be any more than strictly civil.

Steve’s face fell, but Tony focussed on James instead, who looked around him, trying to figure out where FRIDAY was. 

“FRIDAY resides on a private part on one of the servers in the palace. I had to haggle with Shuri for a bit to make it happen, but we’ve come to a satisfactory agreement.” Which meant he would collaborate with Wakanda somewhere in the future in developing AI-like programming. Not pure AI, since that wasn’t strictly legal after Ultron. If anyone asked, FRIDAY was just a learning program. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sergeant,” FRIDAY said. She was a little less hostile towards James, but only a little.

“Likewise, FRIDAY. It’s good to have a lady such as yourself watching our backs,” James replied with a grin, and damnit it if that did not endear him to Tony in a blink. It also did not sting that James had spoken more words to FRIDAY in one sentence than to Tony during his whole stay.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Sergeant.” Tony could hear the pleased note in FRIDAY’s voice.

“Fri, you’re ready to get started?” He seated himself again on the extremely comfortable desk chair, he had to ask king Cat where he got these. 

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Right. You have to give me one of the trigger words so I can find an appropriate neutral memory to program as an association, Frosty. The reason I use a memory is because that way I’m able to conjure it up more consistently than a fantasy. The association won’t be programmed in one go, prepare to spend whole days rehashing the same things. My goal is to help you boys get the hang of this, and then Steve here can help you with the other words. If he uses his own memories, chances are more of yours will come to the surface. Double profit.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together to prevent them from fidgeting. “Okay, where do you want to start?” Tony didn't want to know the full sequence, the idea of having that kind of power over someone made him feel slightly nauseous. 

James took his time selecting a word, brow furrowed deep in concentration. Who knew what selection criteria he used to decide which word to give to Tony? 

“Rust. The word is rust,” he mumbled while wiping his hands up and down on his upper legs. 

“Rust? You know the Iron Man suit isn't really iron, right? Hope you don't think I'm  _ that _ kind of amateur. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or amused,” he said with a wink to show he meant it good naturedly, but the lack of reaction from James and the frown from Steve told him he had a long day ahead of him. The talking had helped him think of a memory containing rust, though. 

“Let’s fire these babies up, gentlemen, please put on your glasses. Fri, Rogers and Barnes spectator rights only _. _ ”

When they all had their glasses on, Tony leaned back comfortably and focussed on the memory he wanted to show. It was of him painstakingly removing the rust off the chrome front bumper of a Fastback. He loved that car, it was one of his favourites, he had found it in a junkyard and had completely rebuilt it. He had chosen this specific memory because it was a simple one, and it happened during one of the best periods of his life. He already was Iron Man, but he didn’t know about the palladium poisoning yet, Pepper and him were in this nice dancing around each other thing, and he hadn’t met any future Avengers. 

He watched as the younger version of himself managed to get the last of the rust off, and screwed the bumper back on the car. Younger him looked happy and proud as he checked if his wallet was in his back pocket, before entering the car. He let the memory play on for a bit as younger him took the car for a spin over the deserted Malibu roads, whooping in delight, and stopped the memory when they were back in the workshop.

Tony noticed both other men smiling a bit behind closed eyes, and he felt weirdly protective of his memory. He didn’t want  _ them  _ to enjoy it, to tarnish it. He shoved the impulse down, away with all the other things he didn’t want to feel, telling himself he just had to get through this day, receive a ‘helping a senior citizen’ badge and then he could play in Shuri’s lab. Just one day.

“That’s one heck of a car, Stark.” James seemed to have forgotten he didn’t talk to Tony for a moment, and he couldn’t stop his stupid mouth from responding enthusiastically.

“Isn’t she? Found her in a scrapyard in a state you wouldn’t believe, drove like a charm once I was done with her.” He cleared his throat. “Well, this is the memory we could use as an association. Only it won’t be enough to just watch it, you have to interact in it, make it your own. Steve, can I use you to demonstrate it to James?”

“Of course, I’ll do anything,” Steve replied eagerly, unknowingly stabbing the knife in Tony’s back a bit deeper. He had first hand experience Steve meant literally  _ anything. _

He stopped himself from putting a hand over his chest and leaned back in his chair again. “Fri, let Steve have participation rights this time.”

The memory started the same as last time, only now Steve Rogers was in the workshop with him. “Don’t just stand there,” younger him said, “pick up a cloth and wipe the side down, will you?”

Steve obliged and they worked in silence, until the bumper was clean and Steve had polished the whole car to a high shine. 

“Let’s take her for a spin,” younger him announced to Steve, looking just as happy and proud as the previous time. The drive was the same, Steve whooping along with younger him as they reached speeds of up to 100 miles an hour. When they got back to the workshop they got out and Steve bounced over to him, he was too close, why was he so close? Tony couldn’t stop the memory from morphing into the Siberian bunker, where he was lying on the ground, holding up his hands protectively while Steve straddled him and brought the shield up to--

“TURN IT OFF, FRIDAY,” he bellowed, ripping the glasses from his face and stumbling upright. He could feel the panic clawing its way into his consciousness while he leant with one hand on the desk, the other protectively over his sternum. He jerked away when someone approached him, and barely heard FRIDAY in his earpiece over the rushing in his ears. He had to get away, he had to get out. He managed to get to the door, which FRIDAY opened for him. He ignored the voices calling him and recited the periodic table backwards as he lumbered through the hallways. FRIDAY gave quiet directions where to go and steered him to a deserted indoor garden where he heavily sat down on one of the benches. The rustling of the fountain soothed him enough to get his breathing and heart rate back under control.

“That went well,” FRIDAY chirped in his ear when all was within normal parameters, and he barked a laugh. Just one day…

“That wasn't even in the top five of our worst encounters.” He massaged his temples, he had been in there, what? Half an hour? and his head was already trying to implode. “Fri baby, where's the nearest food to be had? Nothing like panic to rack up an appetite.” 

“I could have something delivered to your quarters?” FRIDAY’s concern always filled him with a mix of warmth, guilt and regret. He wished he didn’t give her so much to worry about. 

“I’m fine, baby, thanks for suggesting it. A little company might do me good right now.” 

She gave him directions to another dining area, this one far away from where they ate yesterday, clever girl. The food was delicious, and he actually found some nice people to talk to. It was good, this was what he had missed the last years. He had always made it a point to get to know, to some extent, his coworkers, but he had been too busy heroing and lobbying and ugh. This made him feel almost human again.

“Boss, Sergeant Barnes wanted to let you know he sent Rogers away and is waiting for further instructions,” FRIDAY suddenly told him. Well, it was nice as long as it lasted. Tony made a mental note to visit this particular dining area again and went back to the lab.

When he got there he saw James was talking, to FRIDAY he presumed. “Getting chummy with the Sergeant are we?” He tried not to snap at his AI. 

“Just notified him you were on your way, boss,” she told him primly.

He wiped his hands over his face. “Sorry kid, you’re doing good.” At his nod she opened the door for him and he entered. James was turning around and around on the desk chair, but quickly stood, hunched in on himself.

“Stevie is… I sent him away, he wasn’t helping,” he said quietly, not quite meeting Tony’s eyes.

Tony huffed a laugh, talk about understatement. “Very acute observational skills there, James, no wonder you made it to sniper. Natasha’s got nothing on you.” He was pleased to get some sort of reaction, even if it was a minute upturn of the corner of James’ mouth and a slightly less stiffness in posture. He sat down on the couch and picked up one of the BARF glasses, folding and unfolding the legs. James sat back into the desk chair.

“What do you want to do?” Tony was curious, if he were James he wouldn’t want anything to do with the BARF system after this debacle. So much for not poking at traumas.

“I want to continue,” James replied calmly, looking straight at him. “I want to continue and I want you to help me.”

“Why?” Tony couldn’t help the question popping out.

James sighed and slowly turned the chair left and right with his legs, looking again at a point behind Tony's head. “You're my best bet… And I trust you. After everything I've put you through you’ve gone to all this trouble to help me. What kinda nutcase would I be to turn that down?”

Tony nodded. It had been too much to hope James would quit, he was more stubborn than Rogers. 

“Okay, same memory as before, but this time no sudden moves.” He gestured with the glasses to emphasize his point. 

“You probably noticed, seeing how observant you are,” another small quirk of James’ mouth, perhaps he should join the comedy train, “that I programmed different roles into the BARF software, assigned to you by FRIDAY. There are three so far: spectating, participating and creating. I'll let you play with the creating one later if you want, but when you have the other roles you shouldn't be able to change the base memory you're in, like I did.” He hoped this would avoid all the bad stuff James had been through from taking over the good memories. He sure as hell didn’t want to be present during any of the ‘conditioning’ James underwent. 

“Ready?” 

James nodded and put the glasses on, leaning back in the chair.

“Okay Fri, you know what to do. And at the first sign of memory hijacking shut it down.”

“Yes, Boss.”

When the memory started again he didn’t spot James at first. Young him stopped what he was doing to look at the stairs. “You can come in, you know.”

James was standing on the second last step, eyes wide at everything in the workshop. Tony supposed it must be different watching it like in the movies as opposed to stepping around in the shop. “Come on, come on, we got a car to polish.” Young him waved James over, who hesitantly made his way to the car. “Here, don’t be shy, she likes to be touched.” Young him smirked when James startled into a laugh, but took a cloth and started to polish the car. 

They worked in silence for a bit, until Tony noticed James kept staring around him. “I could give you a tour if you want, in one of the next sessions?” 

James looked eager but quickly schooled his expression. “Yeah, sure, I’d like that.” He ducked down to pay extra attention to the wing mirror.

Tony polished for a little while longer until he was ready to attach the bumper to the car. “I wouldn’t mind, this was my favourite place. Sadly giving my home address to a terrorist wasn’t one of my smartest moves.”  

James frowned at where he was wiping, but didn't otherwise react, which Tony found annoying for some reason. They were standing in  _ his _ memory, of  _ his _ perfect place on earth, until it was sent to the bottom of the ocean that is, he deserved at least to be talked to like a fellow human.

He put the last screws in and stood back to watch his handiwork. “What do you think, shall we take her for a spin?” 

When James started to nod Tony held up a hand. 

“Uh uh uh, use your words, we're big boys.”

Tony counted the annoyed look James shot him as a win, it was at least better than the blank faced stare. He gave back his best shit eating grin while raising his eyebrows in challenge. 

James narrowed his eyes and stood up straight, leaning his flesh hand on the roof of the car. “What if I don't want to go for a ride?” He asked with chin raised.

Tony clutched his chest in mock outrage. “Who wouldn't want to drive a beauty like this?” He tossed the keys at James and got into the passenger's seat, leaning his head against the backrest. 

“Not getting any younger here, Barnes,” he yelled when James made no move to join him. 

Whatever internal struggle James went through, he eventually got in the car. Without looking at Tony he put the key in the ignition and started the car. “You're a brat,” he told Tony when he steered out of the mansion.

“So I'm told,’ he replied with a grin and settled back to enjoy the ride. 

  
  
  


It wasn't until the third time together in the memory that Tony could cajole James into driving faster than the speed limit. 

  
  
  


During the fifth time Tony was torn between praying for his life and yelling from sheer joy, driving top speed with superhuman reflexes really was something else…

When they got back to the garage Tony felt exhilarated and even James wore a pleased smile. “Geez Terminator, you've been holding out on me! We have  _ got _ to do this with my Veyron back home!” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Tony was sure he had crossed a line and James would retreat behind his stone faced facade again, but James surprised him by grinning. “I'll keep you to that.”

FRIDAY ended the program, and when they took off the glasses they were both still smiling, which somehow made the silence more awkward.

“So,” Tony jumped up, “wanna get some lunch? I had a late breakfast, but I could eat. I could definitely use some more of that coffee. Are you a coffee drinker? Please don't tell me you're one of the tea ones.” Tony strolled over to the door while talking, but James stayed seated, staring at his hands. 

“I should check on Stevie first,” he said, peeking up at Tony through the curtain of his hair. 

Tony thought he managed to keep his posture relaxed. “Sure, you go do that. I'll, err, just go check in with SI and stuff. Meet you here in what, two hours?” 

“You still owe me that tour,” James called when Tony stepped into the hallway, but he didn't stop to reply. There was no point, he wasn't here to befriend the soldier, he just needed to get today done and be gone. He stopped and leaned his head against the wall for a bit. This meant getting Steve to be familiar with the program as well. 

“You're okay boss? Should I call someone?” 

“I'm fine.” He sighed. “Change of plans. Will you let the delinquent duo know I'm expecting both of them here in two hours? Gotta get Rogers up to speed. And have someone deliver coffee to my rooms.”

  
  
  


The two hours were over before he knew it, and he found himself trudging back to the lab. Steve and Bucky were already there when he arrived, looking like they were arguing. 

Tony hesitated in the hall, he didn't want to wait out their quarrel, but neither did he want a repeat of this morning. 

“Fri?”

The two men stepped reluctantly apart and looked at the door, just before FRIDAY opened it for him. 

“What's going on?” Tony felt his patience was wearing thin, he wasn't in the mood for tiptoeing around the other two anymore. 

“Nothing,” Steve replied while scowling at James, who reacted by scowling ever harder. They looked seconds away from butting their heads.

“I don't want Steve to do all the words and he's acting like a baboon because of it,” James bit out, frustrated. 

“I just don't see why we should bother  _ Tony _ more than necessary,” Steve pleaded. The ‘don't you trust me?’ he didn't say could’ve been printed on his forehead. 

“You don't know the words, Stevie, they're not good words.” 

“They won't bother me!” Steve took a step towards James, hand outstretched as if he could change James' mind by touch alone, but James jerked away. 

“Freight car! They used the word freight car! I refuse to see myself plummet to my not-death, Steve!” James yelled, brushing his hands through his hair in frustration.

Steve was visibly taken aback, trying to come up with a counter argument, but not finding any and Tony saw the moment he gave in. His shoulders slumped a bit, before he pulled James into a hug. 

“Sorry Buck, you're right,” he whispered.

“Don't want to do that to you, punk,” James whispered back, hugging Steve just as close. Tony felt the urge to turn away and give them some privacy, but damnit he wasn't here to play an extra in their romance novel, so he cleared his throat instead. 

“Well, looks like I'm here a bit longer than anticipated, glad I brought a spare pajamas, if you're done hugging it out can we continue?”

He walked further into the room and the two soldiers stepped apart, some silent communication going on between them, which ended with Steve taking a step forward. 

“Tony, I--”

“Save it, Cap,” Tony cut him off with a raised hand, “what's done is done, let's turn over a new leaf, have a fresh start and all that jazz, we're here to fix loverboy over there, not to go into couple's therapy ourselves, okay? There's bigger things at stake.” He refused to look at Steve as he walked to the desk, suppressing a shiver when he turned his back to the soldiers.

“Tony,” Steve tried again.

“No. No. No. Not gonna do this now, or ever really. We talked shit out, we apologised, and I’m not going to rehash with you  _ how putting an unbreakable object in my chest might have resulted in a nasty memory. _ Now, do you want to continue or not?” He was proud he didn’t raise his voice, but couldn’t help his hand from moving to his chest. Of all places it had to be his fucking chest…

James put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and shoved him not to gently to the couch. “Take a seat punk, not everything has a quick fix.” He turned around to Tony. “We’re ready.”

Tony just nodded and took his seat again. He walked Steve through how to conjure up a memory, taking the time to fill in as many details as possible together. It was cute, it fitted the word  _ furnace _ and featured a tiny Steve and just a bit bigger Bucky who had sneaked away together to hide in the boiler room after Steve had ruined a good suit while fighting. It was weird seeing them like this, all innocent and full of energy and life. Later, when he left to let them repeat the memory by themselves he couldn’t quite unsee the kid versions and he found it hard to keep a grudge against someone who was missing his two front teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

James was lying on his bed, wrung out by the days experiences, but unable to catch sleep. They hadn’t seen Tony anymore since he left them in the labs, but he had promised to be there again in the morning to go over the rust memory again. James had no idea what to think about the billionaire anymore, he was sending out so many conflicting signals James was sure he didn’t know himself what was a front and what was real.

Spending time with Tony had been oddly nice, he didn’t mind going into his memory again tomorrow and he was immensely grateful he didn’t have to do all the words with Steve. He loved the guy, he was his little brother, but sometimes his earnestness and readiness to fight were a bit much. Always had been as far as he could tell. After three times in the furnace memory it had been like a valve had opened and James’ own memory of it came flooding in. FRIDAY had sensed something was wrong and had closed the BARF program immediately, bless her. To him the colours were a bit off in Steve’s memory, and the room had been smaller than Steve had remembered, but it was the feeling of fond exasperation at his friend that had struck him the most. Clearly it didn’t matter if they were seven or nearly a hundred years old. 

A few other details had resurfaced as well, and over dinner they had talked about them, Steve expanding with what he knew. Unfortunately it didn’t lead to new memories to be unlocked, but they had a good time. 

He had managed to get Steve to stay away tomorrow morning. James was curious about Tony, he kinda liked what he had seen thus far, once James had stopped being scared he would chase him away. Even if it rubbed Steve the wrong way a lot of the time, James liked Tony’s sense of humour. And he really wanted a closer look at that workshop. Here in Wakanda it was like living in one of those scifi magazines he had saved up for when he was young, but the Wakandan were very protective of their tech, and usually treated the lot of them like the interlopers that they were, barring a few exceptions. James suspected Tony would be a lot less tight lipped about the secrets his workshop was holding.

Sighing, he stepped out of bed. No use lying there if sleep was nowhere in sight. He put on some comfortable clothing and stepped outside. At this hour one of the chefs usually was already awake and cooking, and would feed James if he played up his puppy eyes. The Wakandan were fascinated by his grey eyes, and if it got him food he wasn’t afraid to use them.  

 

When he got to the kitchen he was greeted by a familiar voice. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. What was surprising though, was that Tony was speaking Wakandan like he was born here, and he was teasing the chef who clearly delighted in the fact.

_ “I’m telling you, Chanda, if you can make me forget about the Honey chicken with dried plum and rice my Ana used to make I will challenge T’Challa in a duel for your hand.” _

_ “You had better challenge my wife, Anthony, and she will show you why the King is protected by women,” _ the chef replied with a smile. 

Tony dropped his head on his arms, where he leaned against the bar. “ _ Of course, all the good ones are taken _ ,” he lamented, “ _ but you will let me have a taste, won’t you, sugar plum?” _

The chef rolled his eyes, but heaped Tony’s plate with several delicacies, putting it on the bar and indicating with his head Tony should scram. Tony blew him a kiss while collecting his plate and went over to a table near the window. James deliberated if he should leave to let Tony eat in peace or get something, when Tony waved at him.

“Don’t just stand there, go ask for some too! I won’t share, it’s too good.” Tony held his arms protectively around his plate.

Huh, guess he was less stealthy than he thought. Or maybe FRIDAY had alerted Tony to his presence. 

“ _ Good morning, Chanda,”  _ James started, but the chef only reached out and gave James a readymade plate.

_ “I’m getting used to your nightly visits,” _ the chef said with a smirk and sent him off with a wave of his hand.

Not much for it but to join Tony. He sat down across from him, but Tony didn’t react, so engrossed was he in the food, chewing with his eyes closed and making noises that really had no place at the dinner table. He suddenly blinked and shot James a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, it’s just so good, you know? I might move here, if Chanda won’t come with me,” he yelled the last bit to the kitchen where the chef waved at him over the counter.

James couldn’t help but grin before he tucked into his own plate. 

“So, did you retrieve more memories?” Tony asked around a mouth full of food, looking at him earnestly while chewing.

“Nah, only the one Steve showed me.” He took another bite. “Did remember clearly the kid always was a punk, though.” 

Tony snorted. “I bet.” 

They ate in silence for a bit. Something about the different setting, the darkness outside and the quiet on the palace grounds, or maybe the fact that Tony was wearing an oversized t-shirt with a kitten on it, made James feel bolder.

“You gonna give me a tour of the workshop tomorrow?” 

Tony looked up in surprise. “Sure, we can do that.” He chewed thoughtfully. “We could do it now, if you want?” He shrugged. “Jetlag, what can you do.”

James didn’t buy it for a minute, there was a reason why Tony had invented BARF, but he didn’t call him out on it, just shrugged in recognition. “Sure.”

  
  
  


When they got to the lab Tony sat down in the desk chair again and James moved over to the couch.

“Fire her up please, FRIDAY, participation rights for James here.”

James was surprised by her lack of reaction, and Tony noticed. “She’s miffed I’m not in bed right now, she insists I need more sleep than her,” he smiled, “which is much appreciated.”

“Would be better if you actually listened,” came FRIDAY’s sharp retort.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll crash this afternoon when James and the Captain are playing.” He put on the glasses to signal the end of the discussion, and James did the same.

He soon stood in the workshop again, this time there was no sign of the car, no, that wasn’t true, against the far wall a few cars were parked. The other wall was lined with Iron Man suits, standing like silent sentries in their alcoves, and James shuddered, having first hand experience what  _ one _ suit was capable of. In the middle of the space Tony clapped in his hands and several screens came to live, lighting the entire space slightly blue. 

“Dum-E, U, where are you, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Tony yelled and from behind one of the cars two robots emerged, rolling towards him and beeping in greeting. The largest, DUM-E, James saw on the side, came over first, prodding curiously at his metal arm. James held out his hand like he would for a dog, and watched in fascination as the robot carefully took his prosthetic hand in between his pincer, beeping excitedly.

“DUM-E! No touching visitors, we’ve been over this,” Tony yelled in the background, causing the robot to back away a bit and beep an apology.

“Nah, that’s okay, son, we’ve got the same arm, I’m excited too,” he patted DUM-E on its strut and noticed the second bot, who had hidden itself a bit behind its big brother.

“Hello there, who are you?”

This elicited a giggle like beeping from DUM-E and a shy wave from the other bot. James waved back in awe. Never in a million years had he thought he would live long enough to experience this. DUM-E apparently had lost interest and rolled away to the little kitchen area, and after a bit of hesitation the other bot followed, but rolling backwards to keep an eye on James, causing it to bump into several obstacles on the way. James laughed behind his hand, not wanting the bot to feel distressed. He walked over to where Tony sat behind a desk, watching them with a fond expression.

“They are amazing, Tony! This whole place is amazing!”

Tony did a shy smile and ducked his head. “Yeah, it was.” 

James clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, you promised me a tour, and if I ever get back to the States you have  _ got _ to introduce me to your bots for real!”

He was rewarded by another smile, this one a little bolder, a little less tainted by sadness, and James noticed he liked it. A lot. 

They spent hours in the memory workshop together. At some point in real life Tony had walked over to the couch and sat next to him, putting his legs on the coffee table, before they dived back in. James was eager to explore all the things Tony’s workshop contained. He was in awe of the man’s memory as well, the shop was filled to the brim with minute details. When he later asked Tony about it the other man just shrugged. “Eidetic memory, both a blessing and a curse.”

 

They were disturbed while they were hauling the engine out of one of Tony’s Mustangs by a knock on the door and FRIDAY shutting off the program. The doors opened to a shy young girl who brought a cart full of breakfast. 

“Miss Friday asked us to deliver this to you,” she said, her speech laced with the beautiful Wakandan accent.

“Why, thank you very much, miss Sunshine, I see we’re being spoiled!” Tony exclaimed while jumping to his feet. “Thank you for your trouble and please compliment the chef will you?”

The girl smiled wide and waved when she left.

“Thanks Fri, you’re a doll,” James winked at one of the cameras and was amused by FRIDAY’s pleased huff.

“Hey, no flirting with my kids, Barnes, I’m warning you, and FRIDAY, stranger danger, you’re not allowed out of the house until you’re eighteen.” Tony steered the cart to the couch and poured himself a huge cup of coffee, waving the can for James in question.

“Sorry Tony, just can’t help the charm,” James replied with a crooked grin and stood up to fill a plate.

“Baloney, I’m warning you, consider yourself warned, FRIDAY, back me up here.”

“Sorry boss, I’m too busy braiding my hair,” she retorted, startling a laugh out of both men.

James was pleased that Tony decided to eat on the couch, cradling his large coffee while nibbling on a pastry, and he shoulder bumped him when he sat down again. “That was wonderful, Tony, I can’t remember the last time I spent the night in such a nice way.” He had put in the innuendo on purpose and wasn’t disappointed.

“See this face?” Tony waved at his face. “This is me doing my best to not go to the gutter with that comment, James, my very best, and let me tell you now, we are  _ not _ using BARF to explore the hedonistic exploitations of my youth, although there is probably a lot of money to be made if I decide to use BARF as a sex toy. Which again, we are not going to, so wipe that smug grin of your face, Elsa.”

“I sure hope you won't be distracted and jump us into one of your hedonistic exploitations later,” James replied with a wink, and laughed when Tony quickly took a sip to hide his awkwardness.

After breakfast they repeated the  _ rust _ memory ten times, then declared themselves thoroughly bored and went outside to play chess in the garden until it was time for Steve’s memory. James felt reluctant to part with Tony. This night and morning truly had been one of the most enjoyable in a long while, and he was selfishly relieved he got to do more memories with Tony.  _ Freight car  _ was obvious, but he probably didn’t want Steve to do  _ homecoming _ or  _ longing _ either. Just thinking about the words sent a shiver down his spine, and Tony looked up from where he had been studying the game. James sent him a smile which he easily returned, and wasn’t that a huge change to only 24 hours ago?

Tony beat him by a mile, but they had fun regardless, and then it was time to go back to the lab. They would tackle  _ furnace  _ again this afternoon, and he had yet to decide which words to do tomorrow.

“I’m off to sleep, or else FRIDAY will resort to drastic measures,” Tony said with an exaggerated eye roll when they stood to leave and beamed up at James, hands in his pockets and bouncing on his feet.

“Wouldn’t want that on my conscience,” James replied with a smile. “See you later, Tony.”

James shook his head as they actually waved at each other, and set off to the lab. What a strange turn of events.

  
  
  


James slept briefly. He had turned in early after he had been disappointed Tony didn’t show for dinner. It was nonsensical, he knew that, but it still stung a bit. He woke up at 2 am drenched in sweat, convinced he should report to his handler and panicked because he didn’t know who that was. When he got back to himself he took a shower and went to the kitchen in the hope someone was already there.

He wasn’t disappointed. The kitchen and dining area were dark, but Tony was seated by his table near the window, tapping at his phone. When he noticed James he smiled tiredly and waved him over.

“It’s too early for food it seems, I didn’t know such a time existed,” Tony quipped. He looked awful, the moonlight accentuating the dark bags under his eyes, and James decided to go sit next to him, instead of across. It seemed both of them could use some human contact. Tony didn’t comment, just smiled at him and put away his phone. 

“So, fancy meeting you here,” James offered and felt warm at the laugh this elicited.

“I know, I know, what's a guy like me doing in a place like this, right? Well, apparently not eating,” Tony chuckled, but his laugh turned self deprecating and he tapped out a nervous rhythm on the table. 

“No matter how much fancy tech I throw at it, the nightmares never truly leave.” He shrugged. “They do get less, over time, but well, they're still plentiful enough sometimes I'd rather roam around at night.”

He wiped his hands over his face as James struggled with what to reply. “Sorry, didn't mean to unload that on you. So, what does one do for fun in Wakanda in the middle of the night?” And just like that he put on the mask again, he was still Tony, but less so, and James wondered if he knew he did this himself. 

“I err, woke up thinking I should report to a handler, only I didn't know which one.” James shuddered and he fought his mind to stop providing the faces of the most recent ones. “They never wiped that knowledge, so I panicked because I  _ didn't know _ .” He huffed. “Brains are stupid.”

He glanced sideways at Tony and saw him observing him, concern clear on his face, but also something else, something warmer. It made him glad he decided to share his nightmare, even if it made him feel vulnerable, naked. 

“I fell. With the house,” Tony started, picking up and playing with a paper napkin. “Plunged into the ocean. Got trapped under rubble on the ocean floor, in the suit? Water and me are not great friends, I panicked so hard I passed out. J, got us out eventually. Flew us all the way across the country, but that's another story. Dreamt I was pinned there, unable to move, until the pressure of the concrete and water got to the suit and water started trickling in.”

“Oh my God, Tony, I'm so sorry!” James felt horrible that he made Tony relive that. The fun times they had in the workshop definitely weren't worth this. 

“Nah, it's not your fault, it's one of many in a merry go round of horror. Could've been any. This is one I didn't tackle with BARF yet, so. My own fault.” He shrugged again.

There were many things James wanted to say to that, but he didn't dare, afraid this fragile thing between them, this truce, would shatter and break again. 

“I remember a bit, from before. I remember loving New York at night, how it was always busy, no matter the hour. Could I… I wanna show you?” This seemed like a good deal, a memory for a memory. And it didn't feature Steve, who wasn't fond of night time at all. His rickety eyesight made him near blind after dark, the chill made him cough and he didn't dare dance, always afraid of rejection. 

His suggestion made Tony's eyes light up and he agreed with a smile. 

 

 

They made their way to the lab again and it almost felt familiar walking with Tony by his side, it felt nice. In the lab they sat down on the couch and Tony gave him the same instructions he had given Steve. 

“Fri, you awake, baby?”

“For you always, boss.”

“Please start the program, creator rights for James this time.”

James concentrated hard on the image he wanted to show, one of the busier streets in his old neighbourhood. He was amazed with what his mind managed to conjure up. There was the bakery who sometimes gave them old rolls to take home, old crazy Daisy lived on that corner, there was the newsstand where he used to buy his magazines. The rest was bare though, his mind portraying it as gray and formless. He willed his memory to cooperate, fists balled at his sides, but it was no use. 

He startled when a hand landed on his shoulder, he hadn't noticed Tony here at all. 

“This is amazing James, it's New York, but it isn't like I know it.”

“Yeah, there's supposed to be more… stuff, more details.” He waved his hand at the blankness in frustration. 

“Don't worry about it, they tried to make soup out of your brain, give it some slack.” Tony's hand moved from his shoulder to the small of his back and he steered them to the bakery. “What's the story here? It smells delicious.” Tony bent forward to peer into the shop window.

James hadn't noticed the smell yet, but when it did he was filled with such a sense of nostalgia it left him reeling. 

“We err, there wasn't enough food, when we were smaller, and with Stevie’s health and all… The lady who worked here, she sometimes gave us old rolls with jam. They were the best thing ever. She would spot us from across the street and wave us over to the backdoor. The alley, it was a bit scary the first time, people slept there, you know, but li’l Stevie just marched right in.” James laughed at the memory. “The guy who lived there at the time was actually quite friendly, chatted with us while we waited. When we got our treat Stevie insisted on giving his bun to him, said we'd split the other. His heart always was bigger than his brain.” He shook his head fondly, but Tony touched his arm and pointed behind them. While he had been talking more details had appeared, buildings were coloured in, faceless people were hurrying along. Seeing, no,  _ standing in _ the familiar street was like the start of an avalanche. The more he saw the more he remembered and the more details were filled in. That was where he had pulled Stevie from a dumpster after a fight, behind that tree he had gotten his first kiss from a sweet little gal with a gap toothed smile, there was the shop where his mom used to get her wool… His mom...

James stifled a sob as for the first time in 70 years he remembered the face of Winifred Barnes. He rounded on Tony and pulled him into a hug, lifted him up and danced in a circle chanting “thank you, thank you.”

He felt Tony chuckle against his neck and let go of him. “Sorry, I…” he wiped at his eyes, unsurprised they were wet. “You gave me back my mom,” he smiled but his happiness quickly turned into horror when he realised what he had said. He backed away from Tony, one hand covering his mouth as if to physically stop it from spewing any more. His heart broke, Tony looked so sad, all the lines in his face, his posture, but most of all his large brown eyes, spoke of grief. The street around them shimmered and morphed into that fated road, the car a smoking wreck against a tree, but only for an instant, before the world changed into an underground bunker and he saw himself strapped into the chair, a technician about to turn the handle that would light up his entire being with  _ pain _ . 

The bunker dissolved around him and James found himself on the couch in the Wakandan lab, with Tony turning towards him. 

“James, I want you to listen to me. You're not going to punish yourself for getting something good for a change. James, can you look at me please?”

Reluctantly he looked at Tony out of the corner of his eye, too ashamed to face him fully. 

“Hey, no, none of that,” Tony chastised him as he gently nudged James' chin in his direction. “I will  _ never _ begrudge you for remembering your mother's face, that's what happened, right? What kinda Scrooge do you take me for?”

It was only the upturn of Tony's mouth that prevented James from feeling even more guilty. 

Tony sighed deep and turned to look at his hands in his lap. “Look, a day doesn't go by without me missing her in some way or another. But that doesn't mean I want to take away other people's moms. It's just… it's just another thing I have to live with.”

“I'm so sorry Tony,” James whispered. There wasn't any way he could atone for all the grief he had cost, the red in his ledger Natasha called it, but he felt it as a physical ache to let Tony know how sorry he was, that he wasn't strong enough, that he hadn't resisted more. 

Tony huffed. “What for? For falling off that train? For not dying? For being tortured for decades?”

“I should've killed myself, when I got the chance, should've put a bullet in my brain.”  

“Then they would've sent another soldier…” Tony turned back toward him, leaning in to make sure he had James' attention. “James Buchanan Barnes, I have nothing but admiration for you.”

Tony pinned him in place with his stare, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, he felt… validated,  _ seen _ . This meant so much more than Steve's blind trust and ‘it wasn't you Buck.’ It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he couldn't help but smile at the amazing man next to him. 

“You're something else, anyone ever tell you that?”

Tony grinned. “Among other things.”

“Thanks Tony, you don't know how much this means.”

“Anytime.” Tony patted his arm. “Now, we're going back in there and you're going to show me more. It’s just like falling off a horse, you have to get right back up. Chop chop, soldier, put on them glasses.”

  
  
  


It became a thing. James would tackle one of the words with Tony in the morning, with Steve in the afternoon. And if they found themselves awake together at night Tony and James would dive into one of his pre war memories. It was amazing what was hidden just under the surface of his consciousness. Tony managed to free himself for longer than the intended four days, which made James happier than he had supposed in advance. In this short period of time he had grown very fond of the genius, and he had flicked Steve on the back of his head for not realising sooner what a gem Tony truly was. Befriending Tony had the added benefit that the tension between the former teammates seemed to dissipate somewhat, to the point where they could even enjoy a meal together without butting heads. 

When James was lying in bed on day five of Tony's stay he noticed he was hoping he would wake up again in the middle of the night. He groaned and pushed his head into his pillow. Of all the people to develop a crush on… Because there was no other way to describe the warm, fluttery feeling he got every time their gaze would meet or whenever Tony would burst out in giggles. James supposed it had been inevitable, Tony was just too likeable, with his huge heart, his wicked sense of humour, the courteous way he engaged their hosts. Not to mention how utter gorgeous the man was. James sighed, he felt like a fifteen year old. Of all the rotten luck he'd had, he didn't know if this counted as a good or a bad thing. He just, had to hide it he guessed. 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony had finished his plate, had signed all of the things Pepper had sent him, and still no sign of James. He couldn't deny he was disappointed by the fact, but he was glad the soldier finally got a good night's rest. He brought his plate back to the counter and praised the chef, before going back to his quarters. 

He bumped into James just outside the restaurant, the soldier looking ruffled and drawn, and Tony's concern for the man spiked. Looked like he didn't rest well after all. 

“Bad one, huh,” Tony asked, taking a tentative step forward, not wanting to spook James but needing to comfort him as well. 

James snorted and shook his head. “You could say that.” He put his hands in his pockets and pulled them out again, looking suddenly very young in his large hoodie and with his hair unkempt. 

“I er… would you want to go into a memory with me?” James seemed unsure Tony would accept and Tony was mystified why, they had been doing this for nearly a week now. The nightmare must've been an especially bad one. 

He put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Sure, cupcake, lead the way.”

If James left more space between them than usual while walking to the lab Tony pretended he didn't mind. Just that  _ he _ liked to have someone near after a nightmare didn't mean James did too. Besides, James had an all American super soldier to hug if he needed physical reassurance. Tony had asked James why he allowed him to join his feel good memory recovery sessions instead of Steve. James had mumbled something about Steve's memories convoluting his own and that the punk slept like the dead anyway. Tony had chosen not to overthink it. The last few days he’d had more fun than he could remember having in a long time. If Steve was okay that his lover chose to spend time with Tony he was not going to complain about it, a gift horse and all that. 

Once in the lab they settled in their familiar spots on the couch. 

“Okay honey bunch, wanna do one of mine or one of yours?” They usually dove into James' past, but Tony had shown James the campus at MIT and James had once insisted on going to his workshop again. 

“Mine,” James mumbled. He didn't look at Tony and fumbled with the catch on the box that held the BARF glasses. 

Tony wished there was some way to take away James’ discomfort, but the man obviously didn't want him too near now. “Ready when you are,” he settled on and put on his glasses. 

He saw James had taken them back to the street they had visited that first time, and he held out his hand for James. They had found out that anchor helped him stay in the current memory. Without it he would jump to the chair at, to Tony, random moments, leaving him shaking and vulnerable when they got out.  It had felt a bit weird, at first, walking around hand in hand, but Tony had shrugged it off. If this helped James then he wasn't going to say no. He was actually enjoying the intimacy of it. He had firmly told himself it didn't mean  _ anything _ , even if it sure felt that way when walking hand in hand on the beach after riding the Cyclone. It was just helping out a friend, and Tony felt certain they could be called that now, friends.

 

There was a slight hesitation, but then James took his hand and as soon as their hands touched he seemed to lose some of the tension. 

“Come, I wanna show you something,” he said with a smile and started to tug Tony along the street. The street was unrecognizable compared to their first visit. It was thrumming with life, vibrant and colourful. The air was warm and smelled faintly of blossoms, the people were dressed in summer clothes and strolled around without any hurry. According to the slant of the light it was night at high summer, Tony estimated about nine, nine thirty, but the street was as busy as in daytime. 

Soon James led them in a direction they hadn't been yet. He pulled him through a warren of alleys until they emerged onto an avenue where it was even busier than before. People dressed in their finery were all walking towards a park on the other side of the road. 

James became more relaxed with every step they got closer, straightening to his full height, his eyes shining bright with anticipation. Tony didn't doubt that this was how Bucky would've looked when going out. The Bucky who was famous for his easy charm, the Bucky that had stolen Steve Rogers’ heart. When James grinned at him Tony felt his own heart clench, but he resolutely focused on the positive. James seemed happy, a thing nearly unimaginable just a week ago, and that was most important. That was what Tony had come to Wakanda to help him with. Whatever Tony wanted didn't matter now (“like it never does,” a tiny, mean voice in the back of his head whispered).

He had to smile back though, James' mood was infectious. James squeezed Tony's hand as soon as he did and pulled him along to run across the street, right in front of a car. The driver honked the horn and yelled obscenities out of the window, making James laugh out loud and Tony joined in. They were soon pressed in from all sides by other couples and shuffled their way to the entrance of the park. 

Once they were through the gate the people fanned out over the grass towards a little podium that was set up in the middle where a band was tuning their instruments. 

“I remembered this night just the other day, after Stevie and I did a memory about the Dodgers.” James stood enjoying the bustle, unconsciously rubbing his thumb along the back of Tony's hand, making it very hard to maintain it was nothing more than platonic hand holding. 

“Yeah?” Words proved hard when he tried his best to think of other things than how nice it would be to go on a date with James Buchanan Barnes. 

“This was after we sent the Yankees home with their tails between their legs,” James grinned, looking down at Tony. “The local dancehall organised a spontaneous party outside. It was wonderful, we danced till our feet hurt so much we had to hobble home… Come on, I'll teach you.”

James started forward, but Tony leaned back and pulled on his arm, causing James to look back in question, some of his pleasure instantly evaporating. 

Tony raised his eyebrows in question. “ _ You _ are going to teach  _ me _ how to dance, are you?” Tony was pleased to notice James started to grin again. “ _ You _ , just a kid from Brooklyn, are going to teach  _ me _ , triple champion of the MIT open ballroom dance competition, to dance?”

James laughed out loud now, a wonderful full belly thing, which quickly turned into a devious smirk. “That so, rich boy?” James asked, his chin raised in challenge, but his eyes still crinkled in mirth. 

“Indeed, I think  _ I'll _ show you blue collated lot how it's done.” Tony tried to act haughtily, but couldn't help grinning.

James stepped closer and played up his Brooklyn accent. “How about you show me what ya made of then?” He purred and Tony barely refrained from shivering where he stood, stepping closer instead and dropping his voice low. “Oh, I will.” 

They stood close for a moment, staring each other down. If it had been ten years ago Tony would've bridged the gap between them and kissed James, consequences be damned. Now he raised his finger and booped James on the nose, laughing hard at his cry of outrage and attempting to run away, but failing because James held onto his hand. 

On the stage the music started and it was enough to have James refrain from retaliating. Together they jogged towards an open space in the throng and stood facing each other. James stepped backwards in a bow. “May I have this dance, fair Tony?”

Tony pretended to clutch his pearls with his free hand and batted his lashes. “Why James, I don't know if I should, seeing as we have no chaperone.” For some reason he had adopted a midwestern accent, but James just rolled with it. 

“Don't worry, little missy, your honour is safe with me,” he assured Tony in a horrible cowboy twang, winking.

“You scoundrel,” Tony drawled with a fond eye roll and stepped closer to take James' other hand as well. 

This was the beauty of their make belief world, no one batted a lash at two men dancing. It made Tony sad to think James and Steve never had the chance to indulge themselves like this, but he pushed this thought away resolutely too. They were here now and he was going to enjoy himself while it lasted.

And enjoy himself he did. James was an outstanding dancer, he hopped and twirled like he hadn't spent 70 years as a murderous popsicle, and he was a sight to behold. Seeing him so carefree, so  _ light _ did things to Tony he’d rather not examine. Instead, he focused on James and trying to keep up with him. It was nearly 20 years ago he had last lindy hopped, and to say he was a little rusty was an understatement. James was a patient partner and as the night progressed they got better and better together. 

When the band finally struck up a slow song Tony leaned his head against James' shoulder to catch his breath. James still had his hands on Tony's hips and he gently swayed them to and fro, sighing and pressing his lips against Tony's temple. Tony froze. This was… He wasn't dreaming this was he?

He looked up at James in question and was taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. He felt himself lean forward. It would be so easy to just touch James’ cheek and bring their lips together...

Tony jumped backwards as if burned. James didn't mean it like that, it was just the adrenaline, and the setting, and how the BARF world didn't quite feel real if you payed attention. James would never want this to happen, and Tony felt disgusted with himself to even consider it. James looked away, his shoulders slumped. He must be so disappointed in Tony. Thinking he found a friend, and finding a homewrecker instead. 

The world dissolved around them and they sat stiffly beside each other on the couch. 

“Look James, I'm so--”

“Lets get breakfast, I'm starving,” James interrupted him curtly and stood while throwing the glasses on the table. He reached the door in a few quick strides and turned around. “Coming or what?” 

Tony knew it was one of his less healthy coping strategies, and it always came back to bite him in the ass, but if James was doing him the favour of pretending nothing had happened he was not going to press the issue. He just had to, get ahold of himself. 

  
  
  


Tony had actually been relieved when Steve showed up at breakfast, greeting them both enthusiastically and sitting down in his usual spot next to James, even if it made Tony feel ashamed all over again. Steve was in a good mood, which meant he was chatty enough for three, and if he noticed the others behaving stiffly he didn't mention it. As soon as it was polite to do so Tony fled to his chambers. He had FRIDAY cancel the morning BARF session, claiming something with SI had popped up that demanded his immediate attention. What was the use of a billion dollar company if not for using as an excuse for getting out of stuff. 

He managed to avoid the souped up duo quite effectively this way for nearly a day, which was enough time to convince himself he had imagined the whole thing. Tricking his brain into believing his interest in James was purely platonic didn't work though. It was obvious he cared for James, who wouldn't? The man was kind, smart, charming, everyone liked him. How could you not admire the way he was still human after everything he'd been through? But it didn't stop there. Tony longed to comb his fingers through James' hair, to touch the dimple in his cheek when he laughed. He wanted to dance with James like they did last night, but free in the knowledge there was no one else he belonged to. Free to put his arms around him and hold him close. 

Tony refused to let this ruin their budding friendship, nor would he run away from the commitment he made because his heart had the worst possible timing for letting someone in. So he allowed himself this day of moping, but made sure he was sitting ready and waiting on the lab couch when James and Steve arrived the next morning. 

He was nervous all over again, but it was a different kind of nervousness than when he sat here a week ago. Had it only been a week ago? He huffed and took a sip of his coffee. 

“They're incoming, boss.”

“Thanks, Fri.” He breathed in deep, the smell of coffee helping to ground himself. He could do this, it was just a little, understandable crush. He had been alone for a good long while now, it wasn't strange his heart had latched onto the first wonderful and gorgeous stranger that was nice to him. He always had trouble with getting attached, it was his curse, so he was well equipped for dealing with it this time. He was older and wiser now. 

The door behind him slid open and he turned around with a friendly smile plastered firmly on his face. The soldiers had been arguing some point, elbowing each other and gesticulating wildly, but froze when they saw Tony. 

“Morning honey buns,” he chirped, taking another sip. 

“Tony! Hey…” James waved but turned the gesture into awkwardly rubbing his neck. Beside him Steve was grinning like a cat that got the canary and he hip checked James, who rounded on him with a frown. There was some silent communication going on with their eyebrows where James’ face turned stormier by the second and Steve wore the greatest shit eating grin Tony ever saw on him, it was fascinating. 

Steve broke it off, squeezing James’ shoulder and waving at Tony with his other hand. “Morning Tony, glad you're back, I think you guys got this?” He started to walk backwards to the door, effectively dodging James’ attempt to grab his shirt. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do!” he yelled right before he turned around and jogged away. 

James and Tony turned away from the door where Steve had disappeared, and towards each other. Tony watched James over the rim of his mug, while James pretended he studied something on the wall behind him. It felt like a physical blow, that James was once again so uncomfortable around him that he was back at wall staring. He could fix this, fixing was what he did, even if it killed him. 

“Steve was awfully chipper,’ Tony started, looking for some neutral ground. 

James huffed and finally faced Tony. “He's a punk, that's what he is.” The fond smile belied his harsh tone. 

“Sorry I had to bail on you yesterday. Company stuff, you know how it is.”

James' smile turned wry. “Sure.” He shrugged and looked away again, walking over to the couch to sit next to Tony. “Glad you got a good night's sleep out of it.” James didn't look at him as he said it but Tony felt all of the soldier's attention on him. 

He laughed, seemingly carefree. “Clear conscience probably, finished all the paperwork Pep left for me.” James didn't need to know he barely slept a wink.  

“If you say so.” That was as close to calling Tony out as he could without actually saying it, but Tony decided to ignore it completely, a tried and tested tactic.  

“What new word is on the menu today, Snowflake?” 

James rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a long sigh. Tony hated how James was visibly struggling and he swore, again, to root out the last of Hydra when he got back. 

“Longing. The word is longing,” James said softly at the floor. 

Tony's first impulse was to jump up and ask James if he was fucking with him, but James looked so  _ resigned _ , so utterly done with everything that Tony knew it wasn't a ploy. The sick Hydra bastards had actually used this word to chain James to them. He also understood why James didn't want Steve to do this association with him. It would be incredibly hard for Steve to keep focused on a positive memory, to not skip ahead to the days after James’ fall, or the years he spent looking for his brain scrambled lover. 

“Okay, yeah, longing, I can do longing. Lots of memories with longing going on probably, little tricky to think of a nice one. Usually not  _ that _ nice, longing, except maybe for food, but I don't think staring at me thinking about food will be of much help.” Tony knew he was rambling, but couldn't really stop the flow of words. James didn't seem too offended, his eyes even crinkled a bit like he found it amusing. 

Tony wracked his brain but only kept coming back to painful memories containing longing. Longing for recognition from his dad, for friendship when he was too young and too smart for anyone to want to bond with him, longing to be invisible instead of SI’s poster child, longing for freedom, longing for revenge, longing to just get a fucking break for once, longing to set things right, to fix, to protect what (who) wasn't his to protect anymore, or never had been. 

He had to think. What were safe places where he could take James without a chance of triggering… MIT! MIT was good, lots of longing to belong there, but not too horrible, thanks to his platypus. He thought of a dorm party in his first year. He wasn't as dependent on alcohol then to have a good time as he would be later. He remembered he had enjoyed himself, even if he had spent a good portion of the evening standing a bit apart. 

“I think I got one, it's at MIT. You're ready to start?” Tony handed James his glasses, searching his face for any sign James wanted to stop, but as usual found none. James was just as good at schooling his features as Nat if he wanted to. 

James put on his glasses in answer and leaned back against the couch, prompting Tony to do the same. 

  
  
  


They stood outside a brightly lit dorm building. Loud music came from inside and groups of students were standing around smoking, huddled close in the crisp autumn air. 

Without overthinking it Tony grabbed hold of James' hand and pointed at a tiny boy that came walking from across the green. God, he had been young. He had been at MIT for two months, still hopeful he would find kindred spirits, people who wouldn't ostracize him because of his smarts, or worse, belittle him because he was young. In only a few months he would've learned his lesson and started to use his money to buy himself friends. Except for Rhodey of course. Sometimes, Tony mused, Rhodey was probably the sole reason he turned out as well adjusted as he did. 

Judging by the sharp intake of breath James had recognised him. “Tony don't tell me you…” He waved at the party going on in the building. “You were just a little kid!” 

“Not  _ just _ a kid, or else I wouldn't be here,” Tony answered ruefully. 

They watched the tiny version of himself come closer. His hands defensively balled up in his coat pockets, clearly nervous, but with a hopeful wide eyedness that wouldn't last the end of the year. Some people greeted him and he awkwardly waved back, ducking his head and moving forward until he disappeared into the building. 

James rounded on Tony as soon as he was gone. “I don't want to watch that little boy standing apart and long to be noticed, I don't want to repeatedly watch him being ignored, that's not what's going to happen.”

Tony opened his mouth to counter that this was infinitely better than all the other times he had longed for something, but James held up his hand to shush him before he could start.

“We're going to make a better memory,” he said with such conviction Tony had to smile. 

With a wink James closed his eyes and  _ shimmered _ , for lack of a better word, until he shrunk. When he opened his eyes again James had transformed into a gangly, young version of himself. It was the same face, but with chubby cheeks and without the scruff, his hair short in a neat side part. Only his eyes were the same. He cracked a grin. “Didn't know that would work! Come on, do yourself.” He waved his free hand impatiently for Tony to hurry up. 

Tony closed his eyes and concentrated. Before, he had started out young in the memories, he had never consciously changed his own appearance. Then again, standing with James in the memory when a younger version of himself was also there, was new as well. He tried to feel like he had at fourteen. Small, even for his age, but lithe, always moving, the energy almost dancing under his skin. 

At a delighted laugh from James he opened his eyes to notice he was smaller than James again, a lot. At fourteen James apparently already had a growth spurt, while his would wait a few years. James didn't wait for him to get his bearings, pulling him towards the building, grinning and weaving through the groups of students. 

Inside the music was deafening, but nice. By habit Tony fought the urge to sing along just like he had done way back when. He caught himself however and bellowed out “wake me up before you go go” with the rest of the students, startling a laugh from James. 

They had a hoot. James was hilarious to be with. First he started an absurd moves dance off, which was won by a girl who did the best robot Tony had ever witnessed. Then he decided to test the power he held within the memory scape by switching people's drinks to lemonade and laughing at the confused faces they made. Right now he was proving his uncanny aim in a game of beer pong. Tony was sitting on a couch and watched fondly as James managed another impossible throw, throwing his arms up in victory and laughing when he was smacked on the back hard enough to make him wobble. 

He caught Tony's eye from across the room and quickly made his way over.

“You frat boys know how to party,” he sighed when he sat down next to Tony. He leaned back and turned to face him, smiling sweetly with a blush on his cheeks. Tony knew he smiled back like the love sick dork that he was, and around them the memory changed. The room vanished and they found themselves standing in the park again, between the dancing crowd. It was different than before and Tony realised it must be his memory of the memory scape (an inception of memories he thought nervously). The people around them were slightly out of focus, the music was muffled and the tempo off. Everything drawing the attention to the two men dancing. Tony frantically tried to stop the memory, but his attempts were in vain. He had to watch as he leaned his head against James' shoulder, James swaying them gently to and fro, brushing his lips against Tony's temple and looking totally smitten. Memory Tony looked up at James and leaned slightly forward, but where he actually had stepped back and left the memory scape, James now bridged the gap and kissed him. 

Tony gasped, seeing his mind conjure up in Technicolor what he wanted but could never have, worse, showing  _ James _ this, hurt more than he thought. He felt James squeeze his hand and the park dissolved until they were sitting on the couch in the lab. 

 

The silence between them was deafening, but for once Tony had no clue what words he could use to mend this. 

James huffed. “So now you know.” He wiped his hands up and down on his trousers. “I wouldn't blame you if you want to stop these sessions. This… this is obviously not what you signed up for.” 

James made to stand but Tony stopped him with a hand on his knee. “James, what are you on about?” If anything,  _ he _ was the one who should apologise. 

“Don't make me say it, Tony, that fantasy you witnessed was clear enough.” James yanked the glasses of his face and threw them on the table. 

“What? No! That's… no. That's not…”

James snorted. “Don't need to sugarcoat it. I'll be out of your hair.” He scooted forward to stand again so Tony grabbed him with both hands. 

“That was  _ my _ fantasy, mine!  _ I _ wanted to kiss  _ you _ . You didn't, I did.” 

James turned to face him, studying Tony's features. “Why didn't you?” 

Now it was Tony who turned away, taking off his glasses and playing with the legs. “Despite my reputation, I've never come between lovers, James. I'm offended that you think I would try to come between you and Cap.” It actually hurt a lot, even if he should be used to the whole one-sided friendship thing now. 

“What the hell?”

Before Tony could reply he found himself pulled into James’ lap with James gently cupping his cheek. “Stevie is my brother. I love the man but I don't ever want to kiss him. Ever. You got that?” He stared deep into Tony's eyes, waiting for an answer so he nodded. 

“Good,” James murmured before he brushed his lips against Tony's in a gentle motion. Tony was too stunned to do anything but breathe, like a deer caught in headlights. It wasn't until James pulled back that Tony could will his body into action, surging forward to kiss James again and throwing his arms around his neck to hold him close. James smiled against his mouth and tightened his hold on Tony, parting his lips to deepen the kiss. 

 

“I'm pretty sure  _ I  _ wanted to kiss  _ you _ ,” James whispered in Tony's neck when they finally pulled away to catch their breath. 

It made Tony want to kiss him again. And again. And again, until FRIDAY warned them Steve was on his way. Tony tried to move away, but James held on tight when the doors opened to admit Steve, who smiled brightly at them.

“Interesting technique, fellas, hope you don't want me to sit in your lap this session too, Buck,” he grinned while plopping himself on the couch next to them. Tony took one look at James and they burst out laughing. 

They had a long way ahead of them, Tony knew that. They were only at the start of James' recovery, not to mention his own plethora of issues. Hell, they only knew each other for a week. But he felt something that had been missing for a while now,  _ hope _ , and he knew this was something worth fighting for.

  
  


(BARF proved to be an excellent sex toy.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://bill-longbow.tumblr.com) or join us on the [ Stuckony discord server ](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) for all things Tony, Bucky and Steve!


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